“I know that you count the money in my green and gold purse, which Lucy Netterville gave me, and speculate on the manner in which I have laid out the difference between to-day and yesterday.”
Mrs. Cammysole is disproportionately preoccupied with Thackeray’s personal engagements; hence, she is permanently on the lookout to authenticate whether his life has been renovated. Her mind-set is chiefly egotistical and anti-competitive. Mrs. Cammysole’s bravery which buoys her to tally Thackeray’s money conjectures that her meddlesomeness is infinite.
“I know how many lumps of sugar you take from each pound as it arrives. I have counted the lumps, you old thief, and for years have never said a word, except to Miss Clapperclaw, the first-floor lodger.”
Thackeray’s satirical surveillance accentuates his cognizance of Mrs. Cammysole’s peculiar disposition. It would be impracticable to take stock of sugar by adding up individual lumps; sugar is routinely quantified by definite kilos, or pounds .Nevertheless, the sarcasm validates that Thackeray is aware that Mrs. Cammysole calculatedly appropriates his sugar.
“I could not understand what was the meaning of this night excursion--this candle, this tool house, this bag of soot. I think we little boys were taken out of our sleep to be brought to the ordeal. We came, then, and showed our little hands to the master; washed them or not--most probably, I should say, not--and so went bewildered back to bed.”
Thackeray’s obliviousness of the intent of the uncanny excursion unquestionably extinguishes his probable culpability. For “wiseacre master”, all the boys bid identical gambles of being culpable of the unrevealed mugging that had emerged. The tribulation is an unembroidered ‘test of fire’ which does not grant utilitarian aftermaths to disentangle the theft irrefutably. Maybe, the master had anticipated that the sooty hands would tag the crook. Perhaps, the master was scanning the hypothesis of what he had research vis-à-vis ‘finding out’ proofs.
"Just picture to yourself everybody who does wrong being found out, and punished accordingly. Fancy all the boys in all the school being whipped; and then the assistants, and then the headmaster (Dr. Badford let us call him). Fancy the provost marshal being tied up, having previously superintended the correction of the whole army. After the young gentlemen have had their turn for the faulty exercises, fancy Dr. Lincolnsinn being taken up for certain faults in HIS Essay and Review. After the clergyman has cried his peccavi, suppose we hoist up a bishop, and give him a couple of dozen! (I see my Lord Bishop of Double-Gloucester sitting in a very uneasy posture on his right reverend bench.) After we have cast off the bishop, what are we to say to the Minister who appointed him? My Lord Cinqwarden, it is painful to have to use personal correction to a boy of your age; but really . . . Siste tandem carnifex!"
Thackeray capitalizes on reader involvement by integrating manifold illustrations in this passage to underline the unqualified undesirability of “being found out.” Alluring the reader to envisage the degradation credible personalities such as ‘the headmaster, Dr. Lincolsinn, the bishop, and Lord Cinqwarden’ conjectures that all mortals are profoundly blemished; hence , divulging their failings would plainly exterminate their standing which would adversely sway their accountabilities. Thackeray validates that endeavoring to ‘find out’ individuals’ veiled deficiencies is analogous to counterproductively baring their unnerving nudity.
